Down at the Cabaret
by Butterfly Conlon
Summary: Murder, mayhem, the mob, sex, love, singing, dancing, revenge. Spot Conlon may be getting over his head when he meets Stellina, performer at the Après Foncé, the after dark cabaret. How long must he remain blind to her shady past, and mob connection...
1. Disclaimer

DOWN AT THE CABARET  
  
Disclaimer: I in no way own the Newsies, nor am making any profit. They belong to Disney. The song lyrics that I borrow are in no way mine and belong to the artist who sang/wrote them. Please read and review, because it is very helpful to me as an author to know the readers reactions as to whether they enjoy the story or not. Now that all the business if over with, sit back as you submerge yourself into the dark yet dazzling world of the cabaret. Enjoy.. 


	2. The Opening Act

Ladies and gentlemen! Come one, come all to the Après Foncé! Don't be fooled by its discreet façade, yet come through its doors and be mystified! electrified! Come, see the beautiful, dazzling girls! Allow them to wow you with their singing and dancing! And please stay the night to see the centerpiece of the Après Foncé, the beautiful, the stunning Stellina! Watch her come across patron Spot Conlon! See how his naiveté wages war with her dark experience! Watch in sheer wonder as their unstable relationship abounds! Come join the dark atmosphere of underworld crime as Stellina is vacuumed more and more into the dangerous world of the Corvettis, one of the most powerful families in New York! Witness as Spot Conlon loses his innocence forever, in the dazzling, sparkling, dark world of the cabaret--  
  
  
  
  
  
DOWN AT THE CABARET  
  
  
  
THE OPENING ACT  
  
The cabaret was located at the intersection of Division and Calvary. The unwitting passed by, their heels clicking on the cracked gray sidewalk out front, not taking any heed to the three story weatherworn building coated in moldy red brick. Alas, those who knew, those who knew of its fabled existence made it a nightly ritual to attend.  
  
It was the Après Foncé, the after dark cabaret. To most, it was a myth. A wonderful legend encrusted with an air of mystery. It was whispered in the shadows that such a dazzling place existed, a surreal place full of vibrant colors and sounds and girls of extraordinary beauty. But the tale was disregarded by most. The place had never been found, therefore it could not possibly exist. Yet, those who had been to it, the gentlemen of class, would become addicted to it as though it was a sinfully sweet drug.  
  
They would walk down Division, tailcoats blowing in the breeze, hand clutching top hat, cane rhythmically tapping against the cement and then turn right on to Calvary. There they would stop in front of the splintered double doors covered in a coat of chipping red paint, cautiously look both ways, and then raise their hand, bringing their cane to the right door, tapping three times. And then the doors would suddenly open, and they would step in, engulfed in blackness, the sound of the doors slamming in their ears. They would walk a few feet forward, mind rushing with a fever in the darkness, and then would stop, opening another, smaller door.  
  
And they would behold the Après Foncé in all its glory.  
  
Bright lights in all colors of the rainbow spectrum swirled about the room, dancing over the jubilant patrons. And the girls. The glossy wooden stage was at one end, the bright lights glinting off its polished surface. The girls pranced about on the stage, ruffling their dresses that rivaled the peacock, poured into the crowds, dancing about the gentlemen, leaving them in a state of dreamy temptation. Their voices were sweeter than the sweetest songbird, and their dances more exotic than any creature on earth. Their garters would peek out whenever they threw their skirts in the air; their ample bosoms would glint with perspiration; and their wild hair would be tossed about as they turned and twisted, mesmerizing the patrons.  
  
And then the lights would dim and a hush would fall over the room.  
  
All eyes would turn to the stage, where blue spotlights would collect. The curtains would ruffle and then her leg would peer out from between them, her curvaceous leg strapped into the sparkling silver stilettos. The music would begin and her unbearably slow voice would fill the room, penetrating every ear with a gorgeous tingle. And slowly, oh so slowly, she would appear. Her body a creamy shade of white supported by her legs that stretched for miles. Her wild raven hair would glare blue in the lighting and her azure eyes would pierce all souls in the room.  
  
She was Stellina, the centerpiece of the Après Foncé.  
  
Of course, none of this was learned to the three boys. They were newsboys, Brooklyn newsboys. They had always heard the stories, yet had never cared. It was only when they had come of age and their hormones had begun to surge about unbridled, that they began to take heed. The stories of the lights and the colors and the sounds and the girls were too much to bear. It was then they wished that this louche belvedere was not just the delusive weavings of a raconteur.  
  
And it was then that they decided to hunt for the fabled Après Foncé.  
  
On a balmy evening in late May, Spot Conlon and Will Wheaton could be found in the bunkroom of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House. The former sat on a rickety wooden chair, straddling it backwards, his cane clamped in one hand while the other furiously rubbed at a tarnish mark on the otherwise gleaming hilt. The latter was draped on a bunk, sprawled on his stomach, tongue clamped between teeth and peering out the corner of his mouth, studious look on his features, as he tried to fold the front page of that days newspaper over as many times as possible.  
  
A sudden banging noise in the hallway caused them both to look up to the doorway, to find Rex Reed hurling up the top of the stairs and down the hallway, halting in the doorframe. He was bent over, hands on his knees breathing heavy and face as scarlet as his hair.  
  
"Guys-guys-guys--" he panted, breathing coming out in gasps.  
  
Spot raised an eyebrow, halting in the polishing of his cane. "What is it, Rex?"  
  
Rex inhaled in a large sum of air as he held up an index finger, and, hunched over, made his way over to the bunk, sitting on the frame. Will glared up insolently at him as he moved over.  
  
Rex caught his breath and ran a hand through his thick hair, causing his cap to fall to the bunk. "You're nevah gonna believe what I jist heard."  
  
Spot and Will gazed at him.  
  
Rex appeared triumphant as thought he knew information too important to keep secret.  
  
"Well?" Will finally snapped, throwing the folded sheet of papyrus to the floor.  
  
"Oh!" Rex flinched, peering down at Will. His face ignited red once again, as his gaze drifted to Spot. "I was, I was sellin' me papes today, and I wandered into the business section, ya know, where all the suits are?"  
  
"We know where the business section is, Rex," Will sighed.  
  
"R-right," Rex replied, reddening more. "Well, anyhow, I was wanderin' down there and I was standin' on this corner, right? And these two suits came up and the one wanted to buy a pape--"  
  
"So they wanted to buy a newspaper, big deal?" Will hissed.  
  
Spot narrowed his glimmering eyes and cast a glare at Will. "Shut-it, will ya Will?"  
  
Will's cold blue eyes opened wide in surprise, before they fell into slits and he began to grumble, settling himself into the bunk.  
  
Spot sighed. These petty arguments between Will and Rex were not new. Will inclined himself to be educated. He had came from a wealthy family and had the most expensive schooling, yet his family had tragically died, Will only surviving. Will's father had left his whole estate to him, alas, Will's uncle had been executor of the will and was a very greedy and ambitious man and forged it so it seemed as though the entire estate went to him. He took no pity on Will whatsoever, and cast the boy out on the streets. Will had had a terrible time adjusting to the streets and the life of a newsie, since he was so conditioned to having everything handed to him on a silver platter. Rex, Rex on the other hand was different. Born and raised in a traveling circus, his parents and siblings had been acrobats, billing themselves as the Anti-Gravity Aerialists. Sadly, during a performance at a city where a drunken foreman oversaw the construction of the tent, the key structures became faulty and collapsed, sending Rex's family to their death while he watched helplessly from the ground.  
  
Yes, the two boys were utterly different in many ways. Wills was naturally reserved and haughty and condescending, always seeing a drawback and serious dimension to every situation. Yet, Rex was amicable and outgoing and always cracking the most awful jokes possible. What drew them together, he had not a wisp of reason.  
  
Spot turned to Rex, a warm smile on his face. "You were sayin', Rex?"  
  
"Oh, right!" Rex cried, adjusting himself on the sharp wooden edge of the bunk, his freckles blending into the same shade as his face. "So I was downtown--"  
  
"-in the business district where the suits are and one bought a newspaper. Jesus, Rex, do you have to repeat yourself?" Will's cold voice arose.  
  
Spot shot his icy, narrowed eyes to Will, who steadily stared back, one arrogant eyebrow raised. Spot had to physically restrain himself from thundering over their and plundering Will.  
  
"What. Did. I. Tell. You. Before. Will?" Spot asked icily, every word dripping with bridled fury.  
  
Will blinked, breaking the stare and shook his head. He elicited a sigh. "Go on, Rex," he said reluctantly.  
  
Rex allowed his gaze to flicker between the two before falling on Spot. Spot nodded in Rex's direction and he cautiously continued. "Well, I was downtown, right, and this suit bought a pape." His face lit up. "But, but, you see, it was what they were talkin' about that was int'restin."  
  
Spot leaned forward, waiting upon an answer, and he couldn't help but view out of his peripheral vision Will cock his head in anticipation.  
  
"They were talkin' about a night club. A cabaret." Rex's lips succumbed to a smile. "An after dark cabaret. I couldn't believe it. They were talkin' about the After Dark Cabaret. I was shakin' cause I thought that it actually might be real. I had to find out more. So, as I was handin' the suit his change, I let it fall to the ground. 'Sorry, sir,' I said, as I crouched down, and it worked! The suit still went on talkin' about the cabaret to the other suit. He said something like--" Rex suddenly halted and his features twisted. "Ap-ree Fon-cee."  
  
"'Ap-ree Fon-cee?" Will queried in his lazy voice.  
  
Rex vigorously shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, somthin' like that!"  
  
"Or could it have been the Ap-ray Fon-say?" Will listlessly asked.  
  
Rex clapped his hands together. "Yeah! The Ap-ray Fon-say, that was it! How'dya know, Will?"  
  
Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Before I became a newsie, Rex, I did go to the finest school. And in the finest schools they do teach young men proper French."  
  
Rex blanched, and allowed his gaze to fall to Spot.  
  
"Après Foncé-but d'ya think it was really the same one? I mean, d'ya think its real?" Spot murmured.  
  
Rex opened his mouth to reply, when Will's dull voice sliced the air. "My personal opinion is that the Après Foncé is nothing more than an old wives' tale, a stupid myth. The closet to a cabaret as illustrious as the After Dark is to travel to a bordello and sample one of its dirty whores. And besides, it the place has that much of a damned reputation, then why isn't its location known?"  
  
"Maybe cause only the suits go to it," Rex piped in softly, causing Will to cast a searing glare in his direction.  
  
Spot's green eyes widened and fell to Rex, who's eyes were averted to the floor. "If most the suits are married and they go to this After Dark Cabaret, they wouldn't want their wives to find out about it."  
  
Both Will and Rex suddenly gazed at Spot.  
  
Spot let his hands fall to the hilt of the polished cane. "Yeah!" he cried, voice brightening. "If ya were married and lookin' fer some fun, you sure as hell wouldn't want your wife to know where you were goin' especially to as place like the After Dark Cabaret."  
  
Rex furiously nodded his head, yet Will's sharp voice broke in. "Yes, your theory might be correct. But, still, one of us must be realistic! What if it just doesn't exist?"  
  
Spot straightened. "Well, one of us has to be the dreamer! I mean, c'mon guys, how long have we been hearin' these stories? Ain't it possible, jist possible that this After Dark Cabaret really exists. Maybe this Ap--"  
  
"Ap-ree Fon-cee," Rex aided.  
  
"Ap-ray Fon-say!" Will corrected harshly.  
  
"Well whatever the hell it is! What if it did exist and these suits knew where it was! Imagine what any guy we knew would give just to git a glimpse inside it."  
  
Will released a snort.  
  
"Spot?" Rex asked in a low voice.  
  
"Maybe it is real and this place that the suits were talkin' about really did exist."  
  
"Spot?"  
  
"The place where the most beautiful in the women in the world are cached."  
  
"Spot?"  
  
"The place where the music never dies!"  
  
"Spot?"  
  
"The place where She is!"  
  
"Spot?"  
  
Spot suddenly halted, his gaze falling to Rex. "Yeah, Rex?"  
  
Rex fell against the bunk, his green eyes wide. "I was tryin' to tell you before, guys. The suit said the address."  
  
Unison gasps were elicited from both Spot and Will.  
  
"Where the hell then?" Spot inquired breathlessly.  
  
"Division, Division and Calvary."  
  
"Division and Calvary, Division and Calvary. What the hell is there?" Spot cried, casting his eyes to Will.  
  
Will merely shrugged, his eyes dull.  
  
"But that's what he said," Rex said quietly. "I would bet me life on it."  
  
Silence swept over the room, only to be broken by Spot Conlon and his dazzling smile. "Well, boys, be it real or be it a myth, we are going to Division and Calvary tonight to see if the After Dark Cabaret exists." 


	3. The Second Act: Taps of Lust

THE SECOND ACT  
  
The spring night was unusually bitter, the sky a velvety black, the stars glittering like cold jewels in the sky. Dark, unworldly shadows filled every crevice, allowing the mind to play tricks on its self. And the after thought of rain hung heavy in the damp air.  
  
The only sound on Calvary Street was the soft clicking of the three boys' weatherworn heels upon the cracked pavement. A zephyr sliced through the air, causing the boys' hands to quickly snap up and grasp the brim of their broken top hats. It blew about them, under them, through them, its frigidness causing them to bow their heads.  
  
All were utterly miserable, and Will Wheaton spoke for the group. "This has to be the most insane thing I have ever done! Rex I could kick you in the ass at this moment!"  
  
Rex Reed bowed his head more, his ears turning the same shade of hellfire red as his hair. "Sorry, Will..."  
  
"No, don't say you're sorry!" Spot Conlon spat, abruptly halting, causing Will to slam into him. This formed a chain reaction as Rex thudded into Will, leaving the boy with a face red with infuriation.  
  
Will brusquely shrugged Rex off him, and turned, his eyes narrowed into slits at Spot. "Oh, so you agree that we should be here? At the intersection of Division and Calvary? In the middle of the night? Spot, I know you may have some ego about being the biggest bad ass in Brooklyn, but I'm sorry tell, but compared to the people that prowl this district you are nothing more than...than...than a little baby duckling!"  
  
Rex immediately emitted a noise, before he clasped his hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Spot's eyes narrowed and his cheeks became highlighted with chartreuse. "Ya know, Will, I have had it up to HERE with you and your goddamn remarks. You didn't have to come. You could have stayed back at the lodgin' house shiverin' in your loins like some little pansy in ecstasy over what the After Dark Cabaret has in it. You can turn around and right the hell back if you want to. But if you are goin' to come, then shut your damned mouth!"  
  
Will stepped back, his features wide with a flourish of fluster. "I'm just saying," he hissed in a low voice. "That this area is dangerous. And we come here with this notion in our heads and it might not even be right. I mean, that's where Division and Calvary meet. And look what it is! A big goddamn pile of bricks!"  
  
All three averted their gazes skyward to peer at the antediluvian building coated in timeworn bricks. The hovel did not look the least bit spectacular, nonetheless housing for the most glorious cabaret in all of New York.  
  
Spot released a weary sigh and fell back on his heels. Will's incredulous ways were starting to get to him. How could such a resplendent place exist and yet the exact location of it never have been established? Rex, good old Rex, he was a kidder. He relished in a superb ruse now and again. Perhaps this was just another one of his elaborate wiles to dupe he and Will. Yet, it just couldn't be. The myth of the After Dark Cabaret was just too much a solemn matter between them. And, besides, not even Rex Reed would have gone to all the trouble they did that late afternoon to prepare for their nighttime excursion.  
  
When Spot had told that they were trekking to Division and Calvary that night, Rex had bounded about the bunkroom whooping and hollering and shushing Will and Spot that they were not to tell any of the other newsies for their want to join the group. He had also claimed that it was only the "rich suits" that were granted admittance to the After Dark, and that all three would of course have to don proper attire to gain entrance. How Rex had concocted these notions was beyond Spot, he guessed that it was just a flight of fancy. And it was Rex who had no trials whatsoever to distract the owner of the tuxedo joint down on Canavaghn while Spot and Will both quietly slunk through the back door on pins and needles and purloined three of the best suits-double breasted and dark as the feathers of a raven.  
  
And now here they stood, in a single file, staring up at the weary building, Spot's hopes fading with every passing moment.  
  
"Well," it was Rex's voices that brought them back to reality as Will and Spot slowly dropped their gazes to him. His nose and ears and cheeks were comically red and his tufts of thick fire red hair were. He was rubbing his hands vigorously together. "Hell, I could have got my ass sent to the House of Refuge while you'se two was hawkin' these suits. So I sure as hell ain't jist gonna stand here while all our dreams could be waitin' inside this buildin' here. So--"  
  
"Shhh!" Will's biting hiss cut Rex off, the latter glared indignantly at the former, his face twisting in anger.  
  
"Hey!" he protested, yet Will turned his agitated gaze towards Rex, grasping the crown of his top hat, harshly jerking his head towards the left, so Rex could espy the man in the billowing cape and top hat, head bent and cane in hand, making his way down Division in their direction.  
  
Spot elicited an audible gasp and froze as though crystal water had been induced into his veins, suddenly hardening to a smooth glass.  
  
A sudden wind howled, not disturbing the boys who stood like mannequins, watching the unsuspecting man as he hurried, head bent down Division, suddenly turning onto Calvary, disappearing around the edge of the edifice.  
  
Spot slowly turned over his shoulder, Will and Rex's wide eyes falling to his, Will's grasp still on Rex's top hat. Will suddenly snapped his head, causing his hat to fall to the cement, the wind blowing his shock of blonde hair about.  
  
As though being released from a state of suspended animation, the three boys sprung to life, quickly dashing to the edge of the building and quietly peering around it. The man was halted at the side. They watched as though in a state of orgasmic anxiety as the man looked left, then right.  
  
They quickly brought their heads back, falling against the damp, slick with slime bricks, their chests heaving.  
  
"D'ya think he saw?" Rex inquired breathlessly.  
  
Will was poised to answer, when Spot pushed away from the wall and peered around the corner once more. The man was now tapping his cane against the bricks. Three times. He could feel that Will and Rex had joined him by their breathless inhalations and hot breath.  
  
Then, suddenly, the man disappeared.  
  
All three exchanged bright-eyes glances, their cheeks stained red from the cold and their ambitions high. No words were needed to express what they felt.  
  
Spot coolly cracked his neck, lowering the brim of his top hat over his brow, running his finger about the brim, his gloved palm clutching the hilt of his gleaming cane for reinforcement. With a flutter of material, he snapped his cloak and rounded the corner, his shoes tapping against the sidewalk. His insides were churning about, and he had to will himself not to dash onto the road and spill his guts on the cold stone. Yet, he held his head high, his eyes vigilant, the rhythmic tapping of the cane filling his brain.  
  
There was nothing indifferent to the moldy bricks until about a third of the way down. There, cut into the wall, was a rectangle harboring two doors, splinters rupturing the surface of the chipping burgundy paint. Spot quickly snapped his head around. Will stood behind him, his pale blue eyes bright, and Rex behind him, studying the doors with his wild hazel eyes as though in a daze.  
  
Will released an uneasy sigh, his breath coming out in a transparent frost. Spot slowly turned around and raised the tip of his cane to the door. He stood, not knowing what to do for want of knowledge of the consequences. The tornado ripping up his entrails was not aiding one bit on the decision of tapping the door.  
  
It was when Rex quietly said, "Do it," that Spot inhaled an icy breath and brought his cane against the door. Once. The noise seemed to reverberate through his cranium tenfold. Twice. He could hear his heart beat rise. Thrice.  
  
He stepped back in a gasp, falling into Will, not knowing what was to make an appearance at the doorway.  
  
He was held in the bonds of absolute anxiety, Will's claws gripping his shoulders, when he heard the doors begin to creak open.  
  
Rex emitted a noise.  
  
The doors were opened, revealing a cavity of utter darkness. Spot raised a brow in sheer wonderment, and leaned forward, feeling Will to the same. And in the next moment, it was if some invisible force had latched onto them, for all three cried out as they were pulled into the doors against their wills. They collapsed into each other, breathing heavy, shrouded in total darkness, the sound of the doors slamming behind them.  
  
"S-spot. W-ill," Rex whimpered in the darkness.  
  
Alas, the cold darkness of the outside world ceased to exist in this hallway. It was as though it was a parallel universe. Spot had not an iota of reason what was going to occur, yet he felt as though the dark air was drenched with colors, saturated in a sweet fever. His senses perked and he felt an unbridled spurt of lust surge throughout his body. He gripped his cane with a clammy hand, breathless and cold and hot, feeling Will's grasp clutch onto his cloak.  
  
And he walked forward, a dreamy passion intoxicating his mind. He suddenly halted, as he crashed into solid. Groping in the sweet darkness, Spot found the knob that belonged to the door. His had was shaking so terribly with anticipation that it was when Will released a moan of sultry impatience that his hand finally grasped the smooth handle and he tightly grasped it, flinging the door open. At first, Spot Conlon did not realize what had struck him. It was a dreamy haze that did not seem believable. Yet he stood there in the door, soaking everything in, that his brain reluctantly caved and his senses were sharpened and lust overpowered him, causing chills and a cold sweat to overtake him.  
  
He then realized that all the stories were correct. The After Dark, the Après Foncé, was authentic, oh, so vaingloriously authentic. Yet all those stories and tales could have never, ever done the cabaret justice. It was like some alluring Xanadu that one could only imagine in their wildest dreams.  
  
He stood there in utter shock. The colors of the rainbow spectrum danced about the room. They played on the girl's dresses as they twirled about, singing, dancing, screeching, contorting and twisting and baring their flesh.  
  
He may have remained there for eternity if it hadn't been the rather impatient patron that gave Rex a great shove, sending Spot flying into the surreal universe. The harried man brusquely shoved passed the three, a smile playing on his lips as soon as he entered. A beautiful exotic creature in a turquoise dress and flowing auburn hair rapidly approached him, shaking him out of his cloak and pulling him onto the floor.  
  
Spot shakily rose from his haunches, the music seeping into his brain and the violent hues blinding him and the girls making him dizzy. Suddenly, Will slid past him, a devilish smirk upon his face. He adjusted his top hat and rid himself of his cloak. Rex silently joined Spot's side as they watched Will. His eyes danced about the room and he coolly adjusted his remarkable tuxedo. He immediately fell into possession of a gorgeous girl with wild raven hair, who wrapped her leg about him and dashed his hat to the floor, running her hands through his bright yellow hair. He threw his head back in rapture, savoring the combing. He cast a sharp eye to Spot and Rex before he disappeared into the sea of colors and dark suits.  
  
Spot slowly turned his gaze to Rex, who returned it with wide eyes. His freckles were stark against his pale skin. "It's true. I can't believe it's true."  
  
Spot absentmindedly nodded in agreement. "Come on, Rex," he whispered, grabbing Rex's wrist and pulling him out of the doorway, only to be bombarded by a swarm of girls. The scent of their wild hair overpowered his senses and the perspiration dripping off their voluptuous bodies transferred to Spot's cheeks. He closed his eyes and willed himself to control his levels of passion.  
  
Suddenly, the music halted. Spot allowed his eyes to flutter open. His gaze fell to a short stocky man on atop the glossy, hardwood stage. He was clothed in an electric blue suit with great brass fasteners. His hair was a pale shade of blonde and his cheeks rosy under his handlebar moustache.  
  
Rex elicited a gasp. Spot allowed his gaze to flicker to Rex. "What?" he hissed, not comprehending the look of sheer amazement on the other newsie's face.  
  
Rex blinked his large eyes, falling out of his stupor. "It's Pheorepe. Henry Pheorepe. Remember the stories? These are his girls--all HIS girls."  
  
Spot cocked a brow and stared at the man. He commanded a silence over the room. "The Can Can," he whispered.  
  
At his words, the girls suddenly left the patrons and filed to the middle of the floor. Spot quickly espied Will across the room in the blur of colorful lights, his hair sticking up at all ends, blood red lipstick speared all about his face, and his expression that of impossible lust and confusion.  
  
And in a breath, the music erupted once more. It was a hazy, delicious dream as Spot watched in an orgasmic state of euphoria, as the girls twirled about, lifting their skirts above their heads, revealing their multicolored garters, their hair tossing liberally about, their legs kicking and puncturing the salty air.  
  
And swiftly the music was once again murdered. Alas, this time a cold passion seemed to slither throughout the sweaty atmosphere as the cabaret darkened and a silvery, glittery light began to radiate from the stage. Dazzling, metallic confetti permeated the air and then the music regained its life, this time playing slow, agonizingly slow. The velvet curtains rustled, and the curvaceous leg strapped into the stardust stiletto appeared. And her excruciatingly sensual voice pierced the air, and Spot had to clutch onto Rex's shoulder to keep falling over from a rush of lust.  
  
"Satin sheets are very romantic.but what happens when you're not in bed?" 


End file.
